


smaller than the stars

by ninthcompanion



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Winter fun, tactical snowball action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 09:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninthcompanion/pseuds/ninthcompanion
Summary: “Vane… is this alright?”His hand rises slowly, letting his fingers settle in Lancelot's hair. Soft as freshly fallen snow, and glistening just the same.Overhead, stars shine and chase the snowflakes all the way down toward the Crimson Horizon.“Yeah. It's perfect.”





	1. Tactical Snowball Action

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my good pal @kakkoreborn on Twitter as part of GBF Secret Santa 2018! Hope you enjoy it much as I've enjoyed knowing you since the Tumblr days of yore, my friend.

“Lancey, come on! Hey! Talk to me, just — just say somethin’, please!” 

“Vane... I…” 

Fingers curled and trembling, Lancelot reaches toward the sound of his best friend's shouts. The warmth of a hand clasping his forces a guttural choke from his throat. Distant pounding of footsteps fills his ears, indistinguishable from his own heartbeat. This is it, isn’t it? 

His shallow breath hitches, and just as the darkness weighs him down into heavy silence...

“You're a cheater, Percy!”

Yanking Lancelot out of a hulking snowbank, Vane steadies him against his shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Melting snow off the trees doesn't count! You chuck snowballs, not snow  _ mountains _ ! Them’s the rules!” 

“If you two dolts were more resourceful,” Percival smirks, turning up his chin. “Perhaps you'd have a chance of defeating m-”

Whack! Percival grips his nose, staggering backward. Lancelot stifles laughter with a loud snort. He exchanges a high five with Vane. 

“And if you wasted less time bragging, perhaps you wouldn't have taken that blow.” 

“Oooooooh! Ahaha,” Vane makes emphatic punching gestures in Percival’s general direction, hopping in place. “We’ve gotcha on the ropes, now! Surrender while you still can!”

“You  _ wish _ , mongrel!” 

A flurry of steam whips up on the breeze as Percival’s wrath ignites. The game is afoot.

Vane and Lancelot give each other a synchronized nod and dash in opposite paths through the woods. Percival exhales with a growl, wasting no time — several snowballs pelt the bark at Lancelot's sides, narrowly missing their mark. He breathes warm wisps of laughter as he zips between the thicket of silver birch. 

Percival has no chance against two country boys with a lifetime of winters under their belts.

“The moment you lose your footing,” Percival’s voice calls to Lancelot through the trees. “You’ll see no mercy!”

“I don’t plan to!” 

True to his word, Lancelot is a cobalt blur as he grasps a hanging branch overhead, swinging himself upward. With the right amount of momentum he lands on it and gains the high ground. He won’t be fooled by that trick with the falling snow again. From below, the rivals spot each other. They lock eyes. Percival’s lip curls into a smile as he launches not one, not two, but three prepared snowballs at once into the tree, aiming for the face.

“You’re wide open!” 

Vane barrels in from behind with an armful of snowballs, hurling them at Percival one by one in an endless onslaught. Or he would’ve, if- 

“Whoa!” He yelps, his feet swept out from under him as Percival directs a ball of fire at the snow he’s running across — it melts and he slips, flying into a fluffy snowbank headfirst. His legs flail uselessly in the air as he tries to wrest himself from its chilly grasp. There’s some muffled indistinct hollering. Somebody’s gotta save that butt before it gets frostbite.

“I’m coming, Vane!” Lancelot leaps down from the tree, dive-bombing directly over Percival’s head. In the air he spins and flips forward, snowballs whistling as he tosses them with all his might. 

Percival dodges each one with just a slight tilt of his head and a dry laugh. “You’ll have to try harder,” he jumps backward, brushing his red locks back with one sweep of his hand. “I have two brothers. There’s no ganging-up tactic you two can pull on me that they haven’t already.”

One quick step and Lancelot touches down on the ground in a flurry of snow, zooming forward. Parry after icy parry, the forest shakes as they move, weaving in and out of each other’s paths, ducking, pivoting, kicking up waves of snowdust in pursuit of the upper hand. Percival coughs as Lancelot finally lands a single snowball to his ribcage. 

“Now, Vane!” 

_ “INCOMIIIIIING!" _

By the time Percival whips his head around, Vane is long since free of his snowy prison — he looks up a second too late as his opponent violently shakes the branches of the tree towering above them. 

“Damn-!”

An avalanche of white flops down directly on Percival’s head and buries him from head to toe. 

“You did it, Vane!”

Vane jumps down from the tree, and Lancelot rushes toward him with both hands in the air. Without missing a beat he opens his arms wide and catches him, twirling them around and around twice through the wintry air. 

“Vane, Vane, put me down or you’ll-!”

“Huhwha?!” Said lunkhead slips — they both fall and crush each other, scattering a cloud of snow from the impact. It’s all they can do to catch their breath as they crack up, tangled up like holiday light spaghetti.  

“Whew,” Vane sits upright and dusts off his midriff. He gets to his feet and offers Lancelot a hand before making a light jog to the snowbank where Percival is buried. Rest in pieces.

He extends a hand to help Percival out, whenever he decides to surface. “With or without fire, I can do that, too. These big ol’ arms were built for climbing trees! And shaking ‘em, too!” He flexes his free arm, as if to demonstrate. 

Behind him, Lancelot does a spirited golf clap with rosy-cheeked laughter. “Shall we call the match now, Percival?”

The snow around the Lord of Flames himself evaporates almost instantly, revealing a scowl so vicious it could kill a beast, let alone a man. He rises like steam incarnate onto his feet, ignoring Vane's hand and pointing a clawed finger at him (as he holds up both hands, squeaking). “If you think I-”

_ “Huagh!” _

Both heads whip around as Lancelot flops face-first into the snow. He crawls onto his knees, pine nettles in his hair, and stares at Percival. Then Vane. They stare back. 

Vane remembers how to close his jaw and speaks up first. 

“Ahaha, uh… who threw that one?”

A shadow darts through the trees. Percival swivels and grounds himself between Vane and the creature's last perch — he's slammed by two snowballs, one to the shoulder and another between the eyes. “Agh! Zounds,” he hisses, wiping the snow from his face. “Take cover, both of you! I'll hold the front!”

“Percy, you saved me!” 

“Quiet! Did you not hear m-” 

Tinier snowballs fly through the air in waves, seemingly from all directions. Percival's instruction is forfeit — the three are herded into the center of the clearing, standing back to back as the projectiles whizz past their ears.

“The monster we came here to defeat must have found us first,” Lancelot's brow tenses as he draws his swords, scanning the trees. 

“If you two hadn't picked a juvenile fight with me, perhaps we wouldn't have broadcast our arrival for the entire mountain to hear!”

“Hey, you started the whole thing!”

“Enough, both of you! Percival — if you can use your fire to deflect its attacks while I draw it out of hiding, Vane can move in for the decisive blow.” Lancelot glances over his shoulder to each of them. “Are you both ready?” 

“I hear ya loud and clear, Lancey!” Vane gives him an emphatic nod, readying his halberd. “I’ll bust in at your signal!”

“A fair strategy.” Percival smiles, running a hand along his already drawn blade. Flames spring to life at his fingertips. “Let's go!”

The wind splits around Lancelot as he launches forward, eyes chasing the shadow as it moves. He feels its gaze lock onto him and knows he's won the beast's attention. A rather chunky snowball flies at him and he parries with one blade just before it strikes his chest and wait, wait, where did it go?! 

No sooner has he lowered the sword than lost track of the shadow. How could it move so fast, and not take the bait- oh, no.

“Percival!” Lancelot turns and shouts loud as he can. “Look out!”

Percival's eyes widen, but all too late — he gets a snowy whack to the back of the head and is thusly dunked. Without his sparks countering the frost, another apple-sized snowball thwacks right into Vane's mouth. He topples over like a festive holiday turkey. Lancelot doubles back and rushes in front of them, swords at the ready-

“Lancelot — did I ever teach you to yell your battle tactics out loud for the enemy to hear?”

Nestled all cozy in a tree overhead is Siegfried, tossing a snowball up and down with a pleasant smile. Lancelot gapes. 

“Siegfried?! What are you doing here? I thought you had business elsewh-”

A snowball pelts Lancelot in the throat, knocking him back on his ass. Vane is crushed underneath his big ol’ butt (he's used to it, though). He spits the chunk of ice out of his mouth. 

“Whoo-hoo! That was so cool, Siegfried! C'mon, how about a rematch?!”

Both Lancelot and Percival groan.


	2. Silent Night

“Vane,” Lancelot whispers, his voice gentle as starlight above the winter snow. “Are you awake?”

“Mm… huh? Lancey?”

Streaks of silver glisten in Lancelot's brown hair, new ones popping up every other month. A captain's badge of honor, he always says — proof that he's working hard for the people he serves. Vane reaches out a sleepy hand and brushes the grays from his eyes. Among the faint moonlight and cotton white sheets, they're easy to spot.

Little strings of snowflakes...

“Vane?” Lancelot blinks, cheeks flushed.

When he realizes what he’s doing, Vane stares back at him. A second later his hand darts away.

“Huh? I'm up, I'm up — whatsa matter? You okay?”

“Vane… y-yes, I'm fine,” Lancelot looks at him with a quiet, rosy chuckle before averting his eyes. “Look.”

Lancelot points out the window, far beyond the pane of cold glass. Vane leans upright and peeks out. Golden beams illuminate the skies above; the stars draw closer in awe of the full, gleaming moon. It's enough to make Vane's mouth hang open for a second.

“Whoa… it's so clear! You can see everything, huh? Look how big it is! Like a… like a whole apple,” he frames it between his fingers. “All covered in honey.”

“Oh, stop,” Lancelot's laughter twinkles like wind chimes swaying on his breath. “You're making me hungry. But tonight must be the solstice… and I believe I heard tell of a star shower happening sometime around then, this year.”

“Really?” Vane jolts up like a tightly-wound spring and tosses the sheets off his body. “Oh man, glad you woke me up! What're we doin’, sitting around til — hang on,” he hops out of their shared bed and heads for the kitchen, bare feet slapping the varnished wood of the cabin floor.

Lancelot fumbles backward in the whirlwind of motion. He smooths out his hair with a knowing smile. Waits a few seconds.

Sure enough, a little tuft of blonde hair peeks back through the doorway, followed by Vane's face.

“Lemme get something,” he whispers (poorly). “Be right back!”

“Shh! Don't wake anyone up!”

 

♡♡

 

“I still think Percy shoulda been disqualified.”

“I hate to admit it, Vane,” Lancelot sips his mug of hot cocoa. “But he was right — taking our surroundings into account is necessary. So is making creative use of them in a disadvantageous situation.”

“Mmm… guess we learned that the hard way today, huh?”

The two bump shoulder to shoulder, exhaling white puffs of laughter. Vane curls his side of their shared blanket around him a bit tighter with a goofy shiver. “Brrr! Remind me to never snowball fight with Siegfried again.”

“Seconded.”

The golden solstice moon cradles the snowy mountaintops and pine trees that surround the tiny cottage — their temporary sanctuary on a mission through the northern reaches of their home island. Vane takes a deep swig from his mug, then wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

“So, we've gotta find that Ab… Abdominal Snowman tomorrow, yeah?”

“I think it was ‘Abominable’, Vane.”

“Close enough,” he blows a tiny raspberry, pinching Lancelot's cheek. “I don't care if it's abdominal or abominable, long as it quits attacking the villagers around here.”

“And it will. All the information we've gathered will help us deal with the problem quickly, I'm sure.”

“Then we'll have more time for fun stuff while we're here! We can cross snowball fight off the list, but,” Vane sets his mug down on the wooden porch to count on his fingers. “We've still got sledding, snow angels, snow people, snow forts… and slush!”

“Slush?” Lancelot's nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh. “Vane, aren't we a little old for slush?”

“Whaaaaaat? You don't just outgrow slush, Lancey! Don't tell me you forgot how to make it!”

“No, no! It's too easy to forget.” With a sigh, Lancelot leans his cheek into Vane's shoulder and closes his eyes. “You scoop up freshly fallen snow, and add whatever fruit juice you have on hand. But we don't have any fruit juice right now. So,” he bops him lightly on the head. “We can't make any slush.”

“But y'know what we do have: maple syrup.”

“No, we- Vane, this isn't a vacation! We don't have time for you to run around sucking the sap off the trees.”

“It'll take ten minutes or less! I swear on my knightly honor!”

Now it's Lancelot's turn to pinch Vane, going for the ear instead. They play-fight a few pokes and jabs back and forth, giggling like the schoolboys they once were. It's Lancelot who concedes defeat first, laying his head against Vane's chest in sweet surrender.

A hush drapes over them as snow begins to fall. Vane's breath catches in his throat.

“Vane… is this alright?”

His hand rises slowly, letting his fingers settle in Lancelot's hair. Soft as freshly fallen snow, and glistening just the same.

Overhead, stars shine and chase the snowflakes all the way down toward the Crimson Horizon.

“Yeah. It's perfect.”

They inch closer together, watching the skies with wide eyes. Vane gasps every time a particularly bright comet whizzes by; Lancelot can't help but mirror his excitement, his heart thrumming a little bit faster as they nuzzle up for warmth.

“It's nice to let ourselves be small, sometimes.”

“Huh?” Vane blinks, peering down at him. “What do you mean?”

“A captain and a vice captain… we carry the future of a kingdom on our shoulders.” As he looks up, Lancelot's blue eyes well with starlight. “And a few times, we have even carried the future of the world itself. But up here… and up there, we are just two little humans, so tiny before the rest of our universe.”

“Lancey…”

“Sorry,” he shakes his head. “I'm not sure why I said that. I don't mean to hamper the mood.”

“No, no, hey,” Vane curls an arm around his waist and gives him a cushy squeeze. “You can always be honest with me! Matter of fact, I was thinking the same thing… once we bag that Abominator Snowman, things'll go back to normal. But y'know what else?”

“What?”

“There's no such thing as a ‘normal’ day when you're around, Lancey. You're all the adventure I need. Even if that adventure is just, mmmm,” he tilts his head. “Doing paperwork. Or trying out the new lil’ cakes they sell at the bakery downtown. Like you said, it’s good to feel small sometimes. Those little things in between, the things we get to share… those aren’t gonna go away. And neither am I.”

Drawing the blanket tighter around the both of them, they grin and clink their mugs. Vane bumps their foreheads together.

“Betcha I can chug mine faster.”

“You're on.”

Lancelot wins, if only because Vane chokes and shoots hot chocolate out his nose. As he grabs his wounded snootle (and pride), they both laugh the silent night away.

The stars will let them be small for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. ;; I'll be sure to supply more Vancelots in the days to come!


End file.
